


Slender Marked

by CuriousChibiHunter



Series: Slender Marked [1]
Category: youtube - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Badass, Bob Muyskens - Freeform, Body Horror, Creepypasta, Cryaotic - Freeform, Felix Kjellburg - Freeform, Five Nights at Freddy's 3, Mentions of addiction, Other, Slenderman - Freeform, Tentacles, Videogames, Wade Barns - Freeform, coming to life, septiplier if you squint, this shit is wierd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-11 11:46:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5625490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuriousChibiHunter/pseuds/CuriousChibiHunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark accidentally steals something from a thin gentleman... with unexpected consequences. How will his friends react? Will he ever be human again? What's up with Jack anyway?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Headaches are REALLY not Fun

**Author's Note:**

> Hi  
> I own nothing

Mark’s just trying to record a video as usual, but for once it seems the universe is against him on the idea. Today he thought he’d try to record a video of him playing a Slender game again and ever since he’d clicked start game, there have been problems. The screen is glitching, the frame-rate is wildly fluxuating, and the game has crashed more times than he can count. He’s honestly glad when he notices he needs to wrap things up.  
“And as always, I will see YOU… In the next video. Bu-bye!” Mark cheerily ends the video and happily exits the glitch game. He hopes his computer won’t get a virus from that.  
As he finishes up and moves to go to bed, Mark misses a familiar faceless gentleman on the screen for the briefest of seconds before he vanishes with a small static sound.  
…  
When he wakes up in a couple hours, he has a pounding headache and his back is so freaking sore. He doesn’t know what caused it but he silently vows to never do it again, because this hurts so bad. It feels like the muscles back there decided to knot themselves into twisty ropes and writhe beneath his skin to play the ‘how long can Mark deal with this before he goes insane’ game. The hot water of the shower helps but he can’t stay in there all day. As he walks past the mirror, he sees the skin on his back looks red and raw and he wonders if he got a rash somehow. Shaking his head he pulls on a shirt and grabs some aspirin before heading out to make coffee and more videos. Time for that later.   
…  
The aspirin is NOT helping. Mark’s head feels like he got completely smashed last night and nothing he does is making it any better. His back is still aching as well. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve this. He’s making his way to his kitchen to get some water or something when a sharp spike of pain drives itself right behind his forehead. His legs give out and Mark crumples heavily to the ground in surprise. There’s a slight ringing in his ears that’s growing louder with every second that passes and instinctively he covers them and presses his forehead against the carpet in an effort to stop it. Similar spikes of pain hammer themselves into his back as he swears and arches his spine. He can feel something (make that multiple something’s) shifting and grinding against themselves and the bones in his back and he swears again.  
Mark is eerily reminded of Alien chest-birthing with how his back feels and as another set of pain spikes ram themselves into his body he grabs his arms and tries to curl in on himself. There’s something hot and wet covering his back now. Reaching a hand back to touch his soaked shirt, mark brings his hand around to see it covered in blood. Panic is rising now and his heart feels like it’s trying to escape his chest.  
Suddenly it’s like a pressure valve has finally been released in his back and his entire lower back EXPLODES. There’s a loud ripping sound as his shirt tears, but Mark is too busy strangling the scream in his throat because good GOD this hurts. His eyes are watering but the pain hasn’t stopped. There is a sensation like his back had decided to wrench out his vertebra piece by piece and wet slopping sounds that he knows are from his blood splashing all over himself and the floor. He can taste bile rising in his throat but tries to focus through that. A last body-wracking wrenching feeling runs through him before it all stops.  
Hoarse breathing fills his ears, temporarily drowning out the slight leftover ringing, and it takes him a moment to realize that it’s his own. Mark’s limbs are quivering as he slowly pushes himself up off the floor. There is an odd pins and needles sensation that extends beyond his back for some reason, and it takes him a moment to realize why.   
A ribbon of red trails through his vision and he focuses on the large reddish black tendril currently curled in agitation around his arm. His weary mind considers the fact that he can feel just as much with the tendril as with his arm and Mark as a quiet panic attack at the realization that the tendril is attached to him. He can also feel several more wiggling around behind him, twisting at his emotional turmoil and freaking him out more. The tendrils rubbing against each other makes him realize how raw and uncomfortable that feels so he tries to stop. After a moment they respond to his will and he has to shove down the urge to have another panic attack.  
‘Suddenly having tentacles like Slenderman burst out of your back seems like as good a reason to panic as any,’ a distinctly Wilford Warfstache sounding voice piped up in the back of his mind. Mark ignores this, currently assessing the damage. Aside for the fact that he now has FOUR FREAKY NEW LIMBS, not much else seems different. His shirt is definitely ruined and who knows how long it’s going to take him to get the blood out of the carpet though.   
Taking a deep breath, Mark examines his new… tendrils. They come out of him a bit above the small of his back, two on either side of his spine, one right above the other. The place where they come out of his back is still bleeding, but its sluggish now and seems to be clotting. Mark hopes he won’t get an infection from this because explaining it to a doctor would be extremely difficult. The tendrils themselves are a deep red bordering on black and appear to be made of tightly coiled powerful muscle. He’s reluctant to touch them yet because just the feeling of them rubbing against each other hurts right now. Each tendril is about three or four feet long with the ‘top’ ones being slightly longer than the ones underneath.  
Mark carefully gets his legs under him and attempts to stand up. His knees are weak and he stumbles a bit, thrown off by the added weight on his back he isn’t used to. The ringing in his ears is more distant now and he’s panting as he slowly and carefully makes his way to his bed. He’s exhausted. Unnoticed, the tendrils relax and casually arch down and away a bit as he walks.   
Flopping onto bed he winces at the twinge of pain that sends through his back and tries to get comfortable. He’s asleep in minutes.


	2. Slender is a dickwaffle

Mark wakes up to tendrils hugging himself and practically strangling his pillow. After a brief moment of panic, he remembers they’re his and lets the sliver of hope that what happened yesterday had been a dream die a horrible death. At least they don’t feel raw anymore, he muses as he gets up and stops strangling the pillow. Absent-mindedly, he puts a hand on one and finds that it feels no different than the rest of him, warm and alive.  
A loud growl comes from Mark’s stomach as his body reminds him that making new body parts is hard work, so he makes his way to his kitchen, trying very hard not to knock anything over with his tendrils. He mostly succeeds and moves on autopilot to his fridge, thinking about what happened yesterday and how it was even possible-!  
Blinking, he realizes he’s been munching on a raw steak for the past minute and quickly puts it down. Another loud growl emerges from his stomach in protest at the refusal of food, and Mark is a little shocked at how good the meat tastes just raw. ‘Did what happened yesterday change more than just my back?’ he wondered nervously. It isn’t until he’s licking his hands clean that he realizes that while he was panicking, his body took the opportunity to finish its meal. He isn’t entirely sure how he feels about that, but his stomach is demanding more so he goes back to the fridge.   
It takes two steaks, a side of bacon, a reheated bowl of spaghetti, and a box of Cheesitz to quiet the monster roaring in his midsection and his changed taste buds (seems like meat got kicked up the list of flavors his body loves and he can’t really bring himself to complain about that). Mark hopes this won’t be a regular thing though because otherwise he might go broke trying to buy enough food. His tendrils curl around him at his agitation as he goes to his bathroom to take a shower. He’s still got some blood and gore on him from yesterday and its itching like crazy now that it’s dry.  
Sitting on the floor of the shower, Mark tries very hard not to flinch at the feeling of the stinging spray on the barely scabbed over wounds on his back. The tendrils are arched around him and trembling with how tense he’s keeping them in his effort not to move. The water pooling on the floor has a distinct pinkish-red color still so he stays under until it runs clear.  
When he gets out, he quickly dries himself off, paying careful attention to his back. Mark is about to leave the bathroom to put on some clothes but something about his reflection catches his attention. Turning back, his jaw drops. The reflection in the mirror is warping around the edges in places, shifting, distorting the color around him in a manner eerily reminiscent of-!  
An idea takes shape in his head, a horrible thing he can’t get away from. Desperately hoping he’s wrong, Mark yanks his phone out of the dirty clothes laying on the bathroom floor and goes to camera mode. Pointing it at the mirror he flinches at the customary ringing and full distortion that usually accompany the Pale Man in his games. There’s a slight pounding in his head that is getting worse. As his gaze takes in the proof that he is at least part something he is utterly terrified of, a shadow in the image just over his left shoulder catches his attention. Zooming in shows him the fear inspiring non-visage of a thin faceless gentleman in a dark suit towering over him. He is resting a bony hand on Mark’s shoulder and a shudder crawls over him as he desperately resisted the urge to swat it off. There is something just profoundly wrong about the idea of this … thing… being anywhere near him (and somehow he knows that if he hadn’t gone through what he had the other day – if he was normal, it would be so much worse, to the point of driving him crazy).   
And then it spoke.  
A loud hum sawed at the air, slowly increasing as static fills Mark’s brain and the entire room began to shake. The mirror cracks in a starburst pattern right over his face and the shower walls behind him shatter and cover the floor in razor-blades of glass but he can’t focus on that because his head feels like it’s in a vice and too much more and he’s going to die, his head exploding in a shower of gore.  
“Hello, Mr. Fischbach.”  
Mark grabs his head and SCREAMS because the hoarse, slightly German-accented whisper IS IN HIS HEAD, and he wants- NEEDS!- it out! Now! It’s pretty normal and quiet but feels so horrible and shadowy, it’s like he is being strangled by an ancient tree that is somehow made of flesh and skeletons, entangling his mind. Something ancient and malevolent to the core.  
He opens his mouth do demand (more likely just scream brokenly some more) that the presence get the hell out but instead coughs up blood into the sink.  
“I do apologize for appearing when you are so dressed but it seems we need to discuss some things.”  
The pounding in his head increases and he has no idea how he’s still breathing right now, it feels like the fiery pain behind his forehead is trying to melt his brain out his ears.  
“It seems you’ve found something of mine and I would very much like it back.” The being reaches for the reddish black tendrils anchored in Mark’s spine and he instinctively tries to crawl away. A whimper escapes him as the knowledge that what He wants to do is absolutely undeniably Wrong rises up in his mind. Mark doesn’t know where this comes from, he was entirely terrified when he got them and the tendrils themselves still freak him out very much so, but… he just knows that the alternative of having them ripped out-! Well, it would be infinitely worse.  
As the pale hand continues inexorably toward its prize, the tendrils themselves rise like striking snakes as a bright red shimmer runs along their length like lightning, sparking at the long fingers and forcing them back or risk injury.  
“What’s this?!” the surprise in the humming whisper is unmistakable. Anger starts pulsing in the sound as he continues to ‘speak’, forcing Mark against the glass-strewn carpet with the pressure. “Hmph! This may change things a bit, but no matter. I can wait for your pathetic meatsuit to run down before I can take what I want. In fact I think what I’ll do is be there at your deathbed so I can make sure it goes right… Yes, that’s what I’ll do…”  
The pressure begins receding a bit as the Man turns to go.  
“Admittedly you’ve dealt with things remarkably well so far, for a human. Oh wait, I’m not sure you are that anymore…”  
The barbed words hook into his mind as the static continues to permeate his head and Mark arches his back against the floor (bad idea, glass shards everywhere) and howls brokenly. Slenderman turns back to throw one last remark over his shoulder in that cultured whisper.  
“I can’t wait to see how you deal with everything else… this gig isn’t just a suit and tendrils, you know.”  
And He was gone.  
Marks panting fills the destroyed bathroom for a moment as the only sound, a stark contrast to the earlier cacophony. Somehow he stands up, in spite of feeling like his limbs are made of jelly.  
Leaning heavily against the wall, he breaths deeply for several moments before he can work up the ability to walk. Gingerly the Youtuber steps out of the bathroom and begins to pick glass out of his legs and back, his mind a whirlwind of confusion.   
What did any of this mean?


	3. Bambi?

At first Mark’s able to distract himself by cleaning up his apartment; getting rid of the broken glass and the blood in the carpet takes long enough that he is able to shove the confusion and the insinuated things Slender said into the back of his mind and not think about them too hard. But all too soon, everything is as clean as it will get and the dark thoughts start creeping in again.   
He doesn’t feel like he’ll be able to hide his terror and confusion from his fans if he records today, so he just uploads a prerecorded video to his channel, but even that can’t distract him for long.  
For the first time in a while his comfy apartment feels like its crushing him and he has this overwhelming urge to get outside. He tentatively chalks it up to his … slender instincts (most of Slender’s games are outside after all) and has his hand on the door when Mark remembers just why he has those instincts….  
He scowls at the red tendrils twining around his arms and each other. Snatching a coat out of the closet he’s about to put it on to try and cover them when an odd twisting sensation comes from his back. Turning his head to see if his tendrils did something else weird Mark is greeted with… nothing. No red tendrils. It feels weird to suddenly have nothing attached where there was something not too long ago. Bewildered, Mark twists a bit to see better and immediately he feels a pressure in his back similar to when the tendrils first forced their way out of his back. He yanks up his shirt and runs his hand along the place they were. Just the smooth line of his back the way it had been for years.  
The only thing that felt different now was four shallow slits under his fingers exactly where he’d gotten used to seeing his tendrils come out of. He poked one and immediately stiffened at the resulting jolt it sent up his spine. Got it, no touchy-touchy. So not gone, just hiding? ‘I guess that will be useful,’ Mark thinks to himself as he hangs the jacket back up and steps out the door.   
As he meanders down the street heading for the hardware store on the corner, Mark has to tense his back a little because he can feel the tendrils beneath his skin and he can somehow tell they do not enjoy being cooped up, they want out!   
Suddenly sprouting tendrils in the middle of the street however would NOT be a good thing so he keeps a strong mental leash on them and walks a bit faster.   
Part of him wonders inanely how the tendrils can retract into him like that as he sidesteps other people on the sidewalk. You’d think there wouldn’t be enough room or if there was they would still be plainly visible and obvious beneath his skin. But there was none of that. Again, Mark was forced to just shove the fact into the category of unexplainable supernatural magic and try to carry on.  
Mark was having to take shallow breaths through his mouth as he walked because something out here, he didn’t know what, smelled absolutely delicious and he thought that if he wasn’t trying so hard not to, he’d just be plowing through the crowd at full speed trying to find it.  
Entering the store gave some relief because the scent was less prominent in here under the smell of wood and metal. He managed to find a shower door that looked like his old one and place the order, and he was heading outside to the street again when it slammed into him again. The slight reprieve he got from being in the store only made the reintroduction worse.  
Wiping away the drool by his mouth Mark decided that, fuck it, he Needed to find out what that smell was because he was having some serious cravings right now. It easily cut through the surrounding scent of cars, city, and people. Oddly enough though, it seemed linked with the people-scent and he began discreetly glancing around as he searched for any hint of its source.  
It wasn’t until a business woman tripped right in front of him that he figured it out.  
He of course had rushed over to help her up and had walked straight into a cloud of the delicious smell. weak as the overwhelming urge to bite down on it and send the hot coppery blood into his mouth washed over him. Mark’s stomach growled softly and he was shaking from the realization that he wanted to … eat a human. His body gladly anticipated it but his mind pulled away from the horrifying idea.   
He’d somehow managed to not give in to any of his body’s impulses, helped the lady up and had gotten out of there as quickly as possible. Which was why he was currently wrapped up in his bedsheets tendrils strangling the bed again, and hiding his head under his pillow, silently screaming. He knew this was probably what Slenderman had meant when he’d said that his ‘job’ was more than just tendrils and a suit. Mark remembers idly flipping through the lore on Him when he’d first started playing slender games and coming across the theory that He ate people. Well that was one thing he’d certainly just proved true.  
Another part of the reason that he’s hiding (from himself, really) is that a part of him likes that idea. Tears start rolling down his face as the knowledge that he definitely, absolutely, truly, is no longer human and never will be again settles in with the certainty of fact. His stomach is still growling, has been since he helped the woman but he determinedly pushes it away. Mark isn’t just about to give in to the hunger when he’s finally realized what its- he’s been craving since his transformation.   
Somehow despite the loudness of his thoughts and his hunger Mark manages to slip off into a troubled doze. But not all of his mind is asleep.  
The tendrils writhe as the hunger becomes too much to be tolerated anymore. The part of Mark that is just pure instincts, both Slender and the remains of the human ones, reaches out in search of food. Finding nothing satisfying around, it automatically activates a survival mechanism of the body to go find something that will.  
No one is around to watch as Mark’s body shudders before vanishing from the bed with the slight noise of static and a flicker. The covers make a soft sound as the fabric drifts down to cover the space previously occupied by the warm body.  
…  
Moving. Had to find something.  
Ducking branches and racing silently between the trees.  
THERE!  
Movement. Something alive. Food.  
Coiled muscles exploding into movement, arms reaching, tendrils ensnaring.   
A satisfying crack as the back of the deer (not quite what was wanted, but was alive and would do) crumples beneath the sudden weight of its pursuer. The brief image of a cartoonish mimic (‘Bambi’?)flickers over it for a moment but his hesitation is gone by the time he sinks his teeth into its belly and feeds, stuffing himself on the still warm organs, twitching from not yet receiving the message ‘they were dead’. Blood splashes all over his face and the coppery taste sings on his tongue.   
Like a dreamer awakening from a deep sleep, Mark blinks and shakes away the sleep-fuzz clinging to his mind. His eyes widen as he takes in the sight of a deer carcass in front of him, stripped bare among the leaf-mold. Stumbling back onto his ass, he looks at himself and his handiwork in horror. His clothes are absolutely covered in blood, there is gore up to his elbows, and he can feel the sticky heat on his face too. Mark’s heart feels like it’s trying to escape his chest.  
Bracing himself against a tree, Mark somehow gets to his feet. His body feels heavy and for some reason the ground seems further away than usual. Shaking away the confusing thoughts, Mark wipes off as much of the blood on his face and arms on his shirt as he can (even his clothes aren’t fitting like usual, they’re oddly tighter than he remembers. Especially in the shoulders). He still looks like he killed something, but now not like he’s a cannibalistic serial killer, which is good. Oh, god, he really wants a shower right now.  
Only then does he wonder how the hell he got outside into what looks like a stand of trees bordering a field. There’s a post nearby with a sign advertising a strawberry farm up the hill, but Mark is pretty sure there aren’t any of those near LA, so it isn’t very helpful in finding out where he is.  
“Fuck, how am I going to get home if I can’t tell where I am?” Mark wonders. Even if there was anyone around, which there isn’t, asking for directions would be a bad idea when he’s still absolutely covered in blood like this.  
Unknown to him, the instincts which sent him here, still very much close to the surface because of the recent meal, latch onto the word “home” and immediately casts a link to his apartment. The world warps around him and Mark lets out a very manly yelp as he falls onto his ass for the second time that night… on the floor of his still somewhat destroyed bathroom. In his apartment.  
“Holy balls,” he murmurs quietly, standing up.  
He can’t really deny he feels better now, the hunger is silent for the first time since he first noticed it, and he’s insanely glad he didn’t wake up to a human instead of a deer carcass. So all in all it wasn’t too bad, he guesses (though he still feels really bad for eating the deer and more then a bit squeamish).   
Then Mark notices his height against the bathroom door and shock fills him once again. He’s always complained about his height but never anticipated a change. He was in his twenties, growth spurts weren’t something he could realistically expect. So why was he now six feet and three inches tall instead of his usual 5’10” frame?!  
With his body pulling something else weird on him, Mark can only hope that he won’t ever get as tall as Slender himself. Because just explaining THIS is going to be a problem.  
After a shower (and wiping up the floor after), a wave of sleepiness crashes over him, so he promises himself he’ll think more on this in the morning and falls asleep again, this time much more deeply.  
…  
In the morning, the hunger is back and he’s an inch shorter. Apparently if he wants to get as tall as Slendy (which he DOESN’T) he’d need to eat a whole lot more.  
Over the next few days, Mark’s height slowly goes back to what he considers normal and he breaths a sigh of relief because even though he kinda liked being a little taller for once, he feels better when he’s back at his usual height. Plus it was a pain to have to adjust his chair and camera while recording so no one would notice.  
Yes, he’s gone back to making videos. They and the support he always gets from his subscribers make him feel sane. So he does his best to hide his red secret, makes sure to mark certain weekends on his phone calendar as nights ‘off’, and looks up nature preserves with large populations of wildlife in his area for ‘hikes’ on those days. He doesn’t plan on overeating again, but his budget only goes so far and it’s nice to have a backup plan that doesn’t include him snacking on anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No animals were harmed in the making of this chapter


	4. Unexpected Visitors

“Maaaaaaaaaaark!” the familiar voice of Wade filled his apartment and Mark froze in terror.   
Why are they here?! They haven’t said anything about coming to visit (if they had he would’ve shut that idea down as fast as possible). They can’t be here, he can’t trust himself around them! Fuck!  
Moving quickly, half drawing on his ability to teleport, Mark throws his half eaten lunch back in the fridge behind some leftovers in Tupperware, wipes his face, and starts rinsing the blood off the dishes, making to effect like he’d been cleaning up from a normal lunch the whole time.  
“In the kitchen!” he called back, silently thanking whoever is in charge of his shit-luck that his voice doesn’t hold any of the fear he’s currently feeling. His two best friends are already in the kitchen door, bearing large smiles  
“Happy Birthday-“ Bob began.  
Mark blinks in surprise; he’d totally forgotten!  
“We wanted to surprise you so we’re here for the week!” Wade informs him happily, interrupting Bob. The taller man throws a halfhearted frown in Wade’s direction at this before moving over and giving Mark a hug. Wade joins in and Mark is enveloped in the scent of his friends and he is so so very aware of the steady (warm, good, delicious) pulse in their arms and shoulders so close to his mouth-!  
He swallows the drool in his mouth and wonders how the hell he’s going to make it through a week of this.  
….  
A hidden routine quickly takes shape, and Mark does his best to keep Bob and Wade from being aware of it. Just before they wake up, Mark sneaks down into his kitchen to eat. Then he does it again once they fall asleep again at night. It wouldn’t be so bad but he’s quickly running low on ‘supplies’, and just the other day, he saw Wade looking suspiciously at all the brown paper packets in his fridge.  
The heavy butcher paper helps prevent blood leaking from his animal kills but right now it’s just conspicuous.  
He does his best to hide his uncertainty behind his usual humor and he’s half sure he’s successful. In all the videos they’ve recorded this week, together or separate, neither friend has mentioned anything anyway… and admittedly his control has gotten a lot better with being constantly around his friends.   
Mark stares into his fridge, the incandescent light spilling around him and the fridge door and into his darkened apartment. He looks its contents over again, sure he’s just missed something. It has to be there, one of them just has to! Panic rises in his throat as he starts franticly shoving aside the fridge’s contents, searching for the slightest hint of brown butcher paper. There is none.  
He runs his hands through his hair in an effort to calm down. There’s just a couple more days until they leave, he can make it that long, can’t he?  
Even without there being any of his ‘supplies’, Mark’s stomach is still demanding food, so he grabs a box of Cheezits from the cupboard and hightails it back to the safety of his room.   
Even though he loves spending time with his friends, with the threat of him getting the munchies and there being nothing in the house to fully allay that, he’s finding himself counting down the hours until they leave.   
The hunger is getting worse as well, and he’s noticed that the longer he goes without satisfying it, the more his ‘condition’ becomes apparent. There are dark circles under his eyes and he swears that every time he looks in the mirror his teeth look sharper. He’s also starting to lose control of his augmented strength as well, the other day he very nearly broke his door from slamming it out of irritation.   
Carefully, Mark leans his forehead against the cool mirror in his bathroom, still fogged over a bit from his shower. It’s been incredibly windy all day and the onset of night hasn’t slowed it at all. The mournful sound has him feeling anxious and he has no idea why. The oddly comforting feeling of his tendrils trace patterns on the glass and on his still damp skin before he retracts them again so he can put on his pajamas.   
As he makes his way to his room, he’s caught off guard by the loud hungry growl from his stomach and he feels a twinge of irritation. ‘I can wait a little longer,’ he tells himself. Even so, his feet take him away from his room and down the halls of his apartment. Upon stopping, he realizes with horror that he’s standing outside his guest room and the ache in his midsection is demanding attention. He can hear the quiet breathing of the two inside. The appetizing scent emanating from his so very human friends has kept him on edge all week, although admittedly it had gotten easier to deal with as time went by.  
Almost all his restraint is gone now though. He can’t stay in the apartment any longer, he needs to feed as soon as possible.  
He would never forgive himself if he hurt either of them.  
Determinedly, Mark turns away to grab some things for his hunt.  
…  
-Bob &Wade’s POV have been added to your party-  
A loud crash from Mark’s room startles both of them awake, Wade falling off the blow up mattress he’d been sleeping on. In less than a minute, they were at his door, concern rising.  
“Mark are you ok?!” Bob said, reaching for the doorknob.  
“Wait-!” but the door is already open.  
Mark looks horrible. Like he hasn’t slept in days and the two mentally kick themselves for not noticing. Also he’s dressed like he’s going to rob someone, black hoodie, gloves, and heavy work boots, along with a backpack on the floor – probably what made the noise.  
“What the hell’s going on?!” Wade wonders aloud, Bob nodding in agreement. Mark shifts uneasily.  
“Um, I was just going for a walk?” he tries, wincing at how crappy the excuse sounds. His friends give him a look that says he shouldn’t treat them like they’re stupid. “Look, just get out of my room, ok?”  
“Not until you tell us what’s going on!” Wade shoots back. “I don’t really see how that’s any of your business!” Mark answers, raising his voice a bit.  
“It is when our friend is up in the middle of the night looking like he’s going on a burglary spree!” Bob interjects.  
“Just get out!” Mark yells. “No, tell us what’s happening!” Wade shouts back, moving to cross the distance between them. “What are you doing up this late and why are you dressed like this?!”  
“I said GET OUT!” Mark yells, momentarily loosing focus on keeping the tendrils back. They take advantage of the unintended opportunity and there is a crackling sound as they slip out from under his hoodie and writhe threateningly, red sparks running along their lengths.  
Shocked silence fills his room. Bob and Wade stare at their friend in horror and confusion. Mark licks his dry lips and shifts uneasily again.  
“I, uh, I’ll be back in a bit.” And with that he flickers away, positive that he’s just lost his best friends.   
…  
When Mark returns to his apartment, hunger sated and carrying leftovers wrapped in butcher paper, the house is still in shocked silence. Taking that to mean that they left, Mark tries not to cry and begins putting the leftovers in the fridge. A small sound behind him has him tensing.  
“Mark?” Wade’s voice is so very small and quiet and Mark hates it. Wade is supposed to be cracking loud crappy jokes, not sounding like this. He hates how he made it this way.  
Slowly he turns around and sees his two friends standing in the doorway.  
“I thought you guys would’ve left.” He says back softly.  
Wade snorts and Bob says “You need to give us more credit, then”  
“We’re not gonna bail on you just for this,” Wade continues. “Besides, we want answers.”  
Feeling numb, Mark sighs and moves to go sit down on the couch, the other two following. Cautiously he lets the tendrils out and they arch around him defensively. He tells them everything, his transformation, his run-in with Slender, his feelings and cravings, the dream that turned out to not actually be a dream, everything. And they listen, occasionally asking a question or making a comment but for the most part they let him tell his story uninterrupted. When he’s done there’s silence and he looks down, not wanting to see the disgust on his friends faces over what he is now.   
This is the first time he’s told anyone the full truth or even part of it and he feels so very bare and exposed-  
Then there’s a warm hand on his shoulder and he looks up, not daring to believe what his senses are telling him. There’s sympathy in their faces, but no disgust.   
None of them say a word but suddenly Mark is the center of a bone crushing hug. This time he doesn’t shrink from it but melts into the two sets of arms. He’s crying now but so are they and they’re all smiling and Mark wonders why he’d thought they’d leave him in the first place.  
They all end up falling asleep on the couch in that position.  
…  
Sunlight streams in through the blinds and lands almost directly on Mark’s face. Scrunching up his nose, he sighs and attempts to roll over. And he can’t. Opening his eyes, Mark sees Wade and Bob on either side of him and he smiles happily at the reminder that they haven’t deserted him.   
Then he realizes Bob is drooling on his couch and Wade is cuddling with his tendrils like it’s his life’s mission. He snickers before slowly extracting himself from the pile, taking care not to wake either of them up. Rummaging through a cabinet, he quickly finds what he was looking for and makes his way back to the couch. When he gets there, Mark sees Bob rubbing his eyes and looking at him curiously.  
He makes a shushing gesture and shows him what he’s got in his hand. Bob grins somewhat evilly and gives him a thumbs up.  
And that is how Wade woke up to the sound of an air-horn in his ears with his friends laughing their asses off, falling off his sleeping area for the second time within 24 hours.


	5. A Learning Experience

“Supposedly his presence can cause headaches, paranoia, and memory loss,” Bob reads off one of the websites he’d found on Slender lore.  
“Pretty sure I can’t do that either,” Mark grins, rolling over on his couch to look in Bob’s direction. After a breakfast of pancakes and lots of bacon (Mark still wasn’t sure if letting his friends see him eat something raw was a good idea; hearing about something and actually seeing it are two different things), the three had gone back to the living room.   
Bob had asked if Mark had any other Slender traits besides what he’d already told/showed them, and he’d said he didn’t really know. He’d just sort of been finding out things about himself as he went along. Immediately, the taller Youtube had whipped out his phone and began looking for websites that had at least somewhat accurate lore.  
Mark was currently laying on his couch on his side, looking over at Bob, while Wade looked like he was either thinking hard or very constipated (A.N. I’m sorry, I just had to XD).  
Mark was about to say to Bob that this didn’t seem like it was going to be very helpful when a sharp jolt ran up his spine unpleasantly. Unbeknownst to him, Wade was behind him and had just poked at the area his tendrils came out of.  
Immediately Mark’s tendrils shoot out and wrap around him, effectively trapping his arms by his sides. With a yelp, Wade struggles to stay balanced through his surprise.  
“Jesus Christ, Wade, don’t do that!” Mark said, releasing his friend.  
“Well how was I supposed to know you’d do that,” Wade answers. “Like frickin’ Doc Ock but without the machines,” he murmurs, rubbing his wrist.  
“Look, I’m sorry, but that kinda hurts- what did you just call me?” Mark looks at Wade, who gulps, cursing himself.  
“I didn’t say anything!” he tries to deny, but Mark isn’t having any of it.  
“Did you seriously just compare me to a cyborg type crazy guy from Marvel?” Mark askes, raising an eyebrow.  
“I’m sorry?” Wade tries. Mark looks at him for a minute before asking “Why did you poke me anyway?”  
“I was curious about them, ok?” Wade says, gesturing to Mark’s tendrils, which are still out. “Wade, if you wanted to see my amazing body, you should’ve just asked,” Mark teases, moving over on the couch to make room.  
Wade immediately denies this but hops over the couch anyway. As he pokes at them happily, Mark turns back to Bob, who looks thoroughly amused by what just happened. Mark tells him to shut up, and Bob starts laughing.  
…  
As the car pulls into the parking lot, Mark sighs. “How did I let you two convince me this was a good idea?” he asks out loud, turning to the other two occupants.  
“Because we want to prove to you that as your friends, we accept you completely as you are. And to do that we need to understand all of you,” Bob answers matter-of-factly.  
“Taking you guys on a hunt with me at night sounds more insane than friendship-y,” Mark says flatly.  
“Whatever, it’s camping, let’s go!” Wade attempts to climb out the car window in his excitement, causing Mark to yell at him to not try to break his car. The three got out and begin putting up their tent between a couple empty campsites a little ways away from the parking lot.  
There isn’t too much undergrowth in the forest so no one is too worried about getting poison ivy. Instead, Wade and Bob are starting to notice something else about Mark. When they’re in amongst the trees, it’s hard to see him. He doesn’t turn invisible or anything but their eyes keep sliding over and away from him, and they have to focus to see him at all, even when he steps into some of the scattered puddles of moonlight breaking through the canopy. After a brief mention of this, the conversation quickly turns to lighter subjects as they walk away from the campsite.  
The other two follow Mark as he moves through the place with the ease of one who has been there many times before. He leads them to a small stone overhang overlooking a deer path, and sets down the backpack he has been carrying.  
“What’s in there?” Wade asks, pointing at said backpack. “Some knives and butcher paper,” Mark says, as casually as if talking about the weather. The other two look at the bag for a moment, then back at Mark. They talk quietly for several minutes before Mark shushes them.   
Pointing below them at the path, he motions them to stay still and they see the lithe shapes of several deer, walking cautiously, tails flicking.   
Moving as slow as he can, Mark shifts into a crouch at the edge of the stone overhang, being careful not to alert his prey to his presence. A more predatory mindset rises up, as it usually does when he hunts (helped a lot when he was just starting out and didn’t really know what to do). He’s about to jump when the deer suddenly spook and dart off.   
Mark is irritated and is about to turn away in disgust when something rustles on the other side of the deer path. Instantly he’s focusing all his senses on it, waving away Bob’s whispered question of what was going on. A rank scent reached them, so strong even the humans could smell it. It burned at their noses, a mix of rotting meat, leather, and sulfur.  
A loud growl rose from the other side of the path, the sounds of breaking branches loud in the silence. A red eye flashes in the brush, full of hate and rage that seemed to be directed at anything moving. Immediately warning bells rang in Mark’s head. The instinct based part of him was screaming that this thing was dangerous and to get away, NOW!  
“Mark…?” Wade says nervously.  
“No time, we need to go right now!” Mark shouts, dragging his friends up and soon all three are up and running, while whatever is behind them gives a screaming growl and charges after.  
Grabbing ahold of both Wade and Bob’s wrists, Mark silently prays that this won’t hurt them and flickers back to their camp site. While normally this would have broken their scent trail, the Thing chasing was of decidedly Supernatural origin and had no difficulty tracking the Flicker trail right back to them.  
The youtubers barely had a few minutes to catch their breath before a loud scream sounding like glass breaking mixed with a wounded deer announced the arrival of their pursuer. Mark instinctively shifted slightly in front of his friends as the creature slowly slid into the light.  
The main thought in all of their minds was ‘how does this thing exist?!’ birdlike feet and clawed hands attached to a skeletal frame, ribs protruding through clumped brown fur matted with dried blood and other things. A long wiplike tail extended far behind it, seemingly made of just vertebra with strands of muscle holding it together. The head was that of a buck, with splintered looking horns and the skin worn away on the muzzle so you could count all of its crocodilian yellowing teeth. Red ember eyes glowed out of the sockets, no visible physical eye, just the shards of red light that screamed for chaos and blood. All together it made for a pretty terrifying sight.   
The creature snarled and stalked closer.   
The snarl caused Mark to quickly (accidentally) slip back into his predatory mindset. He snarled back, the loud inhuman sound rumbling in his chest. Hunger and anger rose up in equal measure, along with the realization that this thing had been hunting him and his friends since they’d stepped into the woods. The thought ‘How dare this thing hunt him!’ came from his more inhuman side and momentarily surprised him, but he quickly found himself agreeing with it.  
Allowing his tendrils to slip out, Mark glared at the thing and his posture said in no uncertain terms that if the creature didn’t leave, he would make it. “Get going,” he said through the side of his mouth.   
“What, but-!” Wade started to protest. “Now!” Mark insisted. The other two slowly slipped behind the tent, planning to make a run for the car.  
The creature growled in hate at the sight of the tendrils but made no move to leave. In a swift movement, it launched itself forward, screaming horribly.  
Mark tensed before sending a vicious right hook into its face, sending the thing stumbling back a bit. It quickly shook off the daze and darted forward again, this time from the side. Ducking under the outstretched claws, Mark drove two tendrils into the thing’s chest, causing it to scream again, this time in pain.   
Blindly, it swatted Mark away, raking his shoulder as it tried to get some distance between them. It looked at him warily, raising him from ‘prey’ to ‘enemy to be destroyed’ in its mind.   
The blood was rushing in Mark’s ears and his heart was pounding in exhilaration. He was a little surprised at how much he enjoyed this, but not too much. The creature startled him out of his thoughts by launching itself forward again, this time in the direction of his friends (easier prey), who were sprinting for the car.  
Cursing himself, Mark flickered forward. He’d be damned if that thing hurt his friends because he’d been having too much fun fighting and not trying to kill it more. Desperation fueling his movements, he tackled the creature into a bush, away from his friends.   
Its face was quickly broken by the repeated punches landing on it, and in a Mortal Kombat-esque move, Mark pierced its chest with all four tendrils before literally ripping it apart.   
He sat back, breathing hard. Now that the fight was over, he had time to think about where the hell this thing had even come from. Shaking his head, Mark got up and went to check on Wade and Bob, one hand on his bleeding shoulder.  
“You guys alright?” he asked, looking both of them over for injuries as they rushed over to him.   
“We’re fine, what about you?!” Wade asked, gesturing at Mark’s arm. “I’ll be ok,” Mark grinned as Bob checked to see if the thing was actually dead… with a lighter. The greasy fur lit fast and the whole thing went up in smoke in under ten minutes.  
“Let’s get out of here so we don’t have to find out if there are more of those things,” Bob said when he rejoined the group and all three started for the car.  
…  
On the drive back Wade asked if Mark had any idea what it had been. He didn’t know, as he’d been to that park several times and had never seen that thing before.   
“Well you certainly did a number on it,” Bob said offhandedly as he looked through the internet for what the creature might have been.   
“What did he do?” Wade asked curiously, as he had not seen the remains. “Oh Mark pretty much tore it apart,” was Bob’s casual answer. Wade looked impressed and Mark gave a sort of half smile as he focused on driving with his injured arm.  
Bob found out what the creature they’d seen had been. A wendigo, a creature from Native American legend that liked to snack on humans. The reason Mark hadn’t run into it before on his forays into the park was that they tended to hibernate for years at a time. They briefly speculated on the existence of other supernatural beings before turning the conversation to lighter subjects, as they’d all had enough of such things for the night. The rest of the ride back to the apartment was filled with jokes and laughter.  
When they got back, Mark cleaned his shoulder only to see the wound was already almost healed. He silently thanked his new physiology and then went to sleep. It had been a long day.


	6. More People! (and Slender being a douch again)

-A week after Bob and Wade left-  
-Geek POV-  
“C’mon, c’mon this has to work!” the other customers of the coffee shop stared at the obviously sleep deprived teen muttering to himself as he furiously swiped at his IPad. Many felt sympathy, as the ongoing struggle to get WiFi was something they all had experienced at one point.  
Unbeknownst to them, the teen was not looking for WiFi, but rather trying to re-pinpoint a certain signal on his supernatural tracking software. He would finally be able to prove he wasn’t crazy and that he’d been right all along about the existence of the supernatural.  
He’d tracked the signal to this coffee shop but then it’d started freaking out. Hence why he was smacking the side of his IPad, trying to regain the signal. After a couple hits, it settled down. Upon seeing the location of the signal, the boy’s eyes widened and he darted outside after the fast moving blip.  
Several sharp turns later, he found himself at the entrance to an alley. Pushing away his misgivings and thoughts about possible muggers, he took a deep breath and headed inside. He had to know what he was chasing, and if the program even worked correctly. The alley went about ten feet back before turning to the left and opening up into a larger space filled with several wooden pallets in the corner and a destroyed grey couch with several suspicious stains on the cushions. Nothing alive, supernatural or otherwise to be seen.  
The boy frowned, looking around once more and wondering if the program didn’t work after all, before glancing back down at the screen. The little blip on the screen he’d been chasing is right where he’s standing. Puzzled, he wonders if it’s underground somehow-  
A hand clamps over his mouth as something sharp digs into his side and a deep voice growls “Why are you following me?”  
…  
Mark hadn’t known quite what to expect when his instincts picked up on the fact that someone was following him. Maybe a mugger or even the government coming to take him away, possibly even a supernatural, but not a kid. The guy couldn’t have been over seventeen. Still, appearances could be deceiving, so he stayed wary.  
But the kid just started blubbering not to hurt him and no bad feelings were coming from him either. So Mark released him, carefully staying between the kid and the exit in case he tried to bolt before he got answers. He quickly retracted the tendril about to impale the kid’s side so as not to freak him out even more.   
The first thing the boy does is look at his IPad and then back at Mark.  
“You’re supernatural?!” Immediately Mark denies this.  
“But the blip…” he shows him the screen and Mark’s eyes widen. Something that can track him and anything else supernatural. If someone with less than honest intentions got a hold of this, it could mean his painful death.   
As his panicked mind continues to race, the kid starts talking about how sorry he is and famous he’s gonna be when he actually discovers the supernatural and shows the world. Mark knows that it’s a very bad idea to just let the guy walk away with this-  
‘So let’s just eat him…’ a part of him whispers. ‘No one would notice one kid going missing in this city after all, and it will make sure he can’t talk…’  
Mark’s stomach growls as he tries to push away the hunger and increasingly appealing idea. It’s just one kid... Quickly Mark yanks himself away from that train of thought. He’s pretty certain that if he starts being a man eater like he fears, he won’t be able to stop and truly be a monster in every sense of the word.  
Snarling silently, Mark knocks the kid unconscious as gently as possible before breaking the IPad by stomping on it and using his tendrils to remove the electronic ‘guts’.   
Leaving him on the couch, Mark murmurs quietly “Sorry, but I’m not ready to be a science experiment.” Then he flickers home to quiet his hunger.   
This might be a harder life than he thought.  
…  
-Kid’s POV-  
The hot pounding in his head yanked him back from the soothing black of unconsciousness and the kid groaned as he sat up on the ruined couch. Putting a hand to his head, he glanced around him in confusion before he remembered how he’d gotten there and his head snapped around in search of-  
His IPad! The device lay on the ground a few feet away, completely trashed. The kid jolted to his feet, ignoring the black around the edges of his vision from moving too fast and carefully picked up the gutted remains of his electronic. The insides had been completely ripped out, there was no way he could find a way to repair it and recover his stuff without them.  
Desperately he looked around him, hoping that his attacker had left the ‘guts’ nearby and that he might catch a glimpse of them. No such luck. The area was empty except for some discarded wrappers and wooden pallets, same as when he’d come chasing after that guy.  
That guy… the kid’s grip tightened on his IPad remains as he thought about the guy he’d followed. It had to have been a glitch, that guy was just another nonbeliever. He’d destroyed his one means of finding out the truth just because! Rage washed over him, hot and soothing away his sorrow.   
He wouldn’t just discover the supernatural now, he’d discover it then rub it in that guy’s face, leaving him to the deadly beings he knew were just out of his current reach.   
As his thoughts became darker and various methods of destruction came to his mind, the kid turned and began walking out of the alley. He was muttering to himself and the unhinged grin on his face only added to his insane appearance, passerby doing their best to stay away from the obviously disturbed child clutching the remains of an IPad.   
No one noticed the transparent figure looming in the entrance of the alley, looking after the kid with interest. He had on a tattered grey trenchcoat and a black beanie covered most of his long unkempt hair.   
If they had been able to see him, most would’ve mistaken him for a homeless man on first glance, but closer inspection revealed the inhuman qualities about him. His eyes were yellow from edge to edge, no pupils or corneas visible. There were glowing strings of the same shade of sulfur yellow coming from his fingertips. They trailed in the direction the kid had gone for a few feet before fading out of existence.  
The Puppeteer glanced in the direction the strings were going before grinning maliciously. In an eerily doubled voice, he muttered “Don’t really know why Slender demanded a rush job on this kid, but who cares? More fun for me…”   
Taking a couple steps out of the alley, the ‘man’ slowly faded away as he followed the strings attached to that kid.  
…  
-(please assume what happened in LA happened around 11 in the morning, so Ireland would be around 7 at night)-  
Gritting his teeth, Jack did his best to keep a straight face and not look at the sprite currently knocking over shelved items in the store as he paid for his groceries and left, ignoring the frustrated and confused looks on the faces of the employees.  
Ever since that eye ‘infection’ he’d had in high school, he’d seen the supernatural. While others would just feel the wind tearing at their clothes or see two stray cats fighting in an alley, he’d see the things causing the real chaos.  
Hell, the employees in that shop back there probably only thought it was a mouse or something.  
Walking briskly, Jack was back at his apartment within a couple minutes and he sighed in relief when he saw the new warding charm his Gran had made for him was working perfectly. No supernatural had gotten in and wreaked his stuff while he was away.   
When he’d first started seeing things, he’d tried medication, but that obviously hadn’t worked and only once one of his ‘hallucinations’ had touched him had he accepted they were pretty damn real. And the only reason they were real was because people believed in their existence.  
Once all the groceries were put away, Jack went to his room and collapsed into his chair. Maybe he should record something to relax? Yeah, that sounded nice.  
…  
-(BONUS SCENE: HOW SLENDER GETS THINGS DONE)-  
As the deliciously innocent kid tried to trail after his… Thief, Slender quickly made a call. If the kid wasn’t eaten, he could be used; if he was, who cared?   
He stood on the roof overlooking the alley, watching the proceedings, and sighed in disappointment when Mark let the little welp live. Oh well, worked for him.  
A small noise from behind him caused the Tall Man to turn, hands neatly behind his back.  
“What the hell do you need so urgently, I have to get up earlier than three in the afternoon?” the familiar voice of the Puppeteer asked as he stepped into view.  
Slender’s nonexistent frown of displeasure at the ‘uncouth’ words went unnoticed as his companion stepped to the edge with him and looked down at the alley.   
“The reason I called you here was to see if you can’t manipulate that little brat there,” here the long fingers gestured gracefully at the unconscious form on the couch below them. “into something I can use?”  
The Puppeteer glanced at the kid for a moment before nodding. “I’m assuming with how suddenly you called that this will be a rush job?” he asked. “You’ll need to give me double up front then.”  
The cultured stance remained as the Pale Gentleman pulled an industrial size box of yellow marshmallow peeps out of nowhere. Yellow eyes widened in happiness before looking back at Slender.  
“Why can’t cha do this yourself? ‘S’not usually your style to ask for someone outside of your little proxy circle.”  
“Let’s just say it would be detrimental for me to handle this personally at the moment,” He said delicately.  
“Gotcha.” The Puppeteer’s hands flexed as he glanced again at the kid in the alley below before grinning. This was gonna be fun…


	7. Stalkers become Worse

It was his own fault really. He should’ve known better than to get drunk when he had to constantly restrain himself from EATING the people around him.  
But Matthias had invited him over to make a drunk challenge or something, and like an idiot, he’d accepted. At first, everything had been fine. They’d gotten through some pretty silly things and were both getting closer to crossing the line into blasted drunkenness. They’d wrapped up the video and had messed around some more when Mark’s stomach growled loudly.   
“Woah, Mark, SAVE me from the monster,” Matthias giggled, flopping all over the couch.  
Mark couldn’t fully remember what he’d said but it must’ve been funny because Matthias had nearly choked from laughing so hard. He was trying very hard to ignore the fact he could see Matthias’s pulse in his neck and it wasn’t exactly helping him right now.  
While Mark tried to distract himself, Matthias had fallen asleep over the arm of his couch.  
Mark swallowed hard, but the fuzziness in his head was making it so hard to concentrate… he blinked and suddenly his friend’s leg was in his face, and how had that happened? His tongue darted out to moisten his dry lips and a distinctly unwanted thought came to his mind.  
‘Surely just a taste wouldn’t hurt?... I mean, we’re buddies, Matthias will understand…’ His arm came around slowly to grip the ankle, and Mark opened his mouth, revealing the sharpened teeth he got when hungry… and he was so hungry right now…  
Matthias shifted and murmured something in his sleep, causing Mark’s eyes to widen as he realized what his alcohol and hunger clouded mind almost had him doing. Quickly, he scrambled away from his friend (whom he’d been about to EAT! What the hell was wrong with him?!) and off the couch, just looking at him for a moment, breathing hard.  
The innocuous thought of sitting back down came to his mind, pushed by his overtaxed instincts, who didn’t like it that there was food (No! Never that) in front of him and he wasn’t eating it! Shaking his head, Mark practically ran for the kitchen, making a mental note to pay Matthias back for all his food that wouldn’t be there in the morning.  
Once he felt like he’d eaten enough that he wasn’t going to lose control, Mark flickered back to his apartment and promptly threw out all his alcohol. He was NOT going to have a repeat incident of this.  
…  
A couple miles away, the kid who Mark had almost eaten (whose name was Jeremy by the way) was unable to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw horrific images involving That Man, but also other humans, doing horrible things to each other. Jeremy cried out, wanting to stop them but he couldn’t; he was stuck in place.   
There was a ball of bone-colored light next to him, and a small voice came from the light.  
“I can’t stop them either!” it sounded frantic but exhausted, like it had tried doing something so many times it was considering giving up.  
“They won’t listen to me, but they might listen to you! Please kid, can you help me?!”  
Jeremy nodded, overcome with fear mixed with slight pride, and the light floated into his chest. Immediately he felt stronger and more capable, like he could do anything. There was power washing through him and subconsciously he knew he was now more addicted to it than any drug.  
He relished the feeling and finding he wasn’t bound in place anymore, turned to the humans causing so much unnecessary suffering.  
Deep within his mind, the bone colored light reformed into a tall, faceless gentleman who congratulated the Puppeteer mentally on a fine job. Honestly, humans could be even more monstrous then them, and that was just the thing to convert this boy to a perfect host.  
He thought he would be getting power like in one of his silly comic books and would go on to become some kind of HERO. Slender sneered at the thought as his power began slowly “hollowing” out the boy’s mind. The more he used it, the more he would become nothing but a costume for Him to cast aside at will.   
But he had to be careful. Too much too soon and it would ruin his plans. The Man conjured up an armchair and some Earl Grey. Sitting down, he stirred the tea slowly and relished the delicious feeling of a well completed part of his scheme. Silently he toasted to the foolishness and gullibility of humans.  
Such a contradictory species. Preaching kindness and good but really just as twisted and low as the cockroaches. Well, no, that would be an insult to cockroaches. At least the bugs didn’t try to commit mindful genocide on each other over such little things.


	8. Angst, Fluff, and Addiction

Jack sat on his bed, gripping his phone so tight it hurt, but that didn’t register at all. His normally bright blue eyes stared at nothing, barely making sense of the words his Gran was saying. He knew them, but when he put them together they made no sense. Or at least, they didn’t make sense when he applied the one thought he’d never even considered questioning. He’d spent his entire life believing he was fundamentally human, that the reason he could see everything as it really is was a freak accident.  
Now the one person who shared his true world was telling him that this had never been true. That he was partially something as far removed from humans- everyone he knew- as birds were to fish.  
Part of him was taking note of the more important bits of what his Gran- a banshee- was explaining, but the rest was numb. As though his mind had just fallen to sub-zero and frozen there. As if sensing her grandson’s absent-mindedness, his Gran said he could call at any time before ending the call, leaving him alone in his empty apartment with only his thoughts.  
How had he not seen this? Gran had never seemed more or less than what she was- or rather what he’d thought she was. He vaguely recalled her saying something about not half the legends about them (he would be included in the ‘them’ now, he realized like it was a thousand miles away from him) being true, but he was still so confused.  
A choked noise escaped his throat, as he swung back and forth from wanting to cry to wanting to destroy something, make it as though it never existed.   
Not just something, the truth. But it’s pretty hard to change the truth and right now Jack had no idea where he should start or even if he could. Carefully, Jack set his phone down on his nightstand before his whole body shuddered and he hid his face in his hands, shaking silently.  
What the hell could he do now?  
…  
Mark grumbled to himself, shifting slightly in the underbrush that hid his form from his prey. The sound of a twig snapping opposite him echoed in the trees, sending the deer darting off into the gloom. A scowl flashed over his face for a moment.  
A familiar smell that reminded him of the dogs he loved made him turn a bit. A large white canine stood directly across from him, staring at him unflinchingly. It-she, he corrected himself, was obviously a wolf, she was too big to be a coyote, and there was an air of wildness and pride about her that you wouldn’t find with a feral pet.  
Green eyes sparkled with amusement and a red tongue lolled out as she laughed silently. Mark didn’t know whether to feel irritated or amused when he realized she’d just played a prank on him.   
With a grin, she turned a bit before staring at him, implying he should follow. Mark did so, wondering why a wild animal was behaving like he was her best friend. The wolf led him to a stream and with another silent laugh, flipped a fish out of the water to land at his feet. He quickly pinned it to prevent it from flopping away and watched in amazement as she got one for herself, admiring the easy companionship that had unexplainably sprung up between two predators.   
“How’d you know I like sushi?” he laughed and she was laughing with him, throat quivering with unreleased mirth.  
Discreetly Mark snuck a photo of them both, planning on telling Bob and Wade all about this new awesomeness. But for now, he’d enjoy his lunch and the companionable silence.  
…  
Jeremy leaned against the wall, trembling. He felt exhausted, both physically and emotionally. He reached for the well of power in himself, relaxing and sighing as a wave of warmth swept through him, washing away the tiny little aches and pains he hadn’t even noticed until they weren’t annoying him anymore. The buzz of energy made him feel so damn good…  
With a new spring in his step, the boy pushed away from the wall and walked confidently away, already figuring through plans for how he could use this power of his.  
Deep in his mind, Slender did his best not to let any of his scorn and disgust through their link. To distract himself, he wondered which blend of tea he should try next: he’d been hearing good things about that orange and ginger chai combo.  
…  
All three of them could have never predicted the collision course they were on, time rushing onward to the point where they would all have to confront one another about their ghosts.


	9. I Actually Did a Thing!

-(two weeks later)-  
Jack looked into the mirror in his hotel room’s bathroom. He frowned to himself as he saw how his left eye was still more intensely blue than his right. Slipping on the black and silver bracelet his Gran had given him, Jack looked back in the mirror to find the color had muted back to the human eye-shade spectrum.   
He sighed in relief that the charm was working the way it should and pulled his blue hoodie on, stepping out of the bathroom to pull on his shoes. He was still very insecure about his heritage and didn’t like to be reminded of it (-especially after last week…), hence the charm.  
Otherwise Jack would’ve felt nowhere near confident enough to face his fans or even his friends. Shaking himself lightly, the Irishman stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind him. He grinned to himself as he reminded himself of how much he loved conventions and walked to the elevator, humming. Trying to blot out memories of screaming flames and warped metal, half misted eyes looking at him, screaming, screaming, Screaming, and the delicious feeling of being finally rid of the emptiness, and he loved it and hated it, felt so damn guilty-!  
Jack remembered what his Gran told him and breathed.  
…  
Mark sighed; dealing with people being so close was not fun, especially when he didn’t have any ‘supplies’ to calm his appetite. No way would they have gotten through airport security. Running a hand through his hair, he grimaced at the tension in his back and stepped onto the elevator. Maybe someone would be selling beef jerky at the convention?  
He slumped against the back wall of the elevator, hands in his pockets. Taking a shallow breath, Mark closed his eyes to try and shut out the appetizing smells. At a sharp inhale from the door, his eyes snapped open as he subtly tensed in preparation to deal with any possible threat-  
Oh. It was Jack. He relaxed slightly at the familiar sight of the Irishman… then frowned. Had Jack always radiated blue-tinged wildness and he just had never been able to see before…? His friend was looking at him in tense surprise, and not the kind where you see someone you weren’t expecting. More like someTHING. His blue eyes seemed to bore right through Mark, like could see everything he was trying to hide.  
Jack opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then apparently thought better of it. Stepping onto the elevator almost tentatively, he pushed the button to close the door, then the one for the lobby, and leaned on the wall to the left of Mark.  
After a few moments of the only sound being the mechanisms of the elevator, Jack spoke.  
“So… how long have you been supernatural?” the casual tone almost distracted Mark from the world-shattering words. His eyes widened and his mind started racing, inches from panic. Unaware of the effect his words had on his friend, Jack kept talking. “-cause last time I saw ya in person you weren’t.”  
“I-I’m sorry, what?”  
Jack chuckled. “Well last time I saw you, you didn’t have those, did you?” he said, nodding at where Mark was now struggling to hold back the tendrils. Shock was stripping away his control- and he shouldn’t, but this was Jack…  
Mark sighed, letting the red tendrils slip out from under his shirt and twist over themselves. “…How did you know?” he asked quietly.  
Jack blinked, taking in the sight of the tendrils he’d only seen glimpses of when hidden. He’d been a bit worried when he saw the ripples of red like ribs clinging to his friend, but he seemed to have it somewhat under control…  
“Oh! Um, my left eye, you know how I had that ‘eye infection’ when I was younger…?” Jack trailed off, letting Mark draw his own conclusions. He knew it wasn’t fair to be keeping his heritage back when Mark had just confirmed something so very personal, but… it was too close for him right now. He couldn’t just look at his ability objectively anymore, like it was a cool accident. It was closer than his own skin, part of him, and he wasn’t quite ready to fully deal with it yet. Hell, he’d prefer if he didn’t have them at all. Remembering that… incident… Jack shuddered.  
Then he realized he hadn’t been listening to what Mark was saying. “What did ya say?”  
Mark shrugged. “I said it’s kinda funny we both know about it,” he grinned, red writhing around him.  
The two fell into a comfortable silence, each a little comforted that there was someone they could talk to, who knew about the insidious truth that most though crazy. When the elevator reached the lobby, Mark quickly hid his tendrils again and the two made their way to the convention, chatting about everything and anything –except what they’d both learned in the elevator.   
…  
Jeremy let out a shaky breath, his hands swiftly tying up the unconscious guy who worked at the convention and had been dangerously unobservant. Quickly, he pulled on his shirt and badge, thanking the Power for his proficiency in small illusions. One to change his face to match the guy and another to make sure anyone who looked into the janitor’s closet he was changing in and stashing the unconscious body.  
Turning, he slipped out of the closet and made to effect like he’d been standing next to it the whole time. With a grin on his face, the kid moved through the crowd, eyes searching for his quarry. The Power had said the guy who’d wreaked his stuff would be here and if he could just get him away from these crowds… well, it would be lucky if there was any more that a bloody stain left of him.  
He couldn’t get him directly of course. As much as it galled him, he knew he wasn’t proficient enough yet. But the Power had promised that if he could get him alone, it would take care of everything else.  
Eyes glittering with malice, Jeremy’s grin was just a little too wide as he side-stepped a group of cosplayers. Soon… retribution…   
…  
“Hey bros!” Felix said energetically, grinning at the two as the joined the group. “Sup Jack,” Cry waved.  
The Irishman grinned at the masked man before Felix killed the moment (again). “So… did you two have ‘fun’ on the way here?” the Swede smirked, eyebrows wiggling.  
Mark laughed and Jack made a threatening gesture but his grin ruined the effect.  
“Actually, we were stopped by one of the guys that work here. Apparently there’s something they just finished organizing for us over in the other hall. Last minute I guess.” Mark said thoughtfully.   
“Then let’s go!” Wade said energetically. Bob shook his head, fondly exasperated.  
After a few minutes of walking, with jokes flying, the group came to the part of the building with a lot fewer people.  
“Dude, you sure the guy wasn’t just messing with us?” Bob wondered out loud. The group turned to go… only to find the way they came had quite suddenly become a blank wall. Félix started flipping out, hugging Cry and screaming about impending death and horror movies. Bob and Wade exchanged concerned glances, and Mark and Jack were looking at something in the opposite direction.  
“What the hell is that?” Jack asked, pointing at a crackling bone white light spilling out from under a set of double doors farther down the hall.  
“Normally everything horror movies have taught me would demand we ignore that and run away screaming,” Mark mused, Wade making a loud sound of agreement. “Buuut, seeing as we have nowhere to go except to find out what the hell that is…” he looked at Jack, Wade’s screech of “No!” being completely ignored.  
Jack looked back at Mark, hearing the unspoken words of ‘and we should be pretty safe, considering… things…’  
Sighing, he turned to the others. “What do you guys think?”   
“This is a very bad idea!” Wade said vehemently, but Bob interrupted him. “Do you think splitting up is a better idea dumbass?”  
“Let’s just go see what it is,” Cry said optimistically, ignoring the fake-crying Swede clinging to him. “What’s the worst thing that could happen?”  
‘Fuck.’  
…  
“What the fuck is he doing?!” Felix quietly screamed. The light from behind the door was coming from a widescreen TV hanging on the wall opposite the doors, cables and sparks of the dead light jumping away from it at random intervals. There was a guy standing in front of it, arms raised like he was seeing the arrival of some omnipotent being. The sound of static filled the room, covering up any sound he or the group behind him might have made.  
Mark flinched, putting a hand to his head. The static reminded him uncomfortably of the… visit… from Slenderman when he’d first started this whole thing. He grimaced at the headache starting to form. The static increased in volume, becoming piercing and painful to everyone in the room. A screech like metal ripping pierced the air and a shockwave of the light exploded outward.  
A familiar German whisper echoed in his ears. “Ready for a new game, Markiplier?”  
Heat and light slammed into them and everything when black.  
…  
“Ugh…” Jack groaned, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. A hand quickly forced him back down and covered his mouth, preventing his yell of outrage escaping- and alerting the amnesia grunt lurching past, reeking of rot. Jack swallowed his scream at the horrific sight. Why was it so much more horrible in person?! Fuck, why was it here?!   
“Stay. Very. Still…” Mark breathed, pulling the other man behind the overturned desk. Glancing around revealed the others hiding behind various furniture, overturned by that explosion. Félix was clinging to Cry, looking like he was going to flip out at the slightest sound. Bob and Wade were looking similarly panicked.  
The monster snorted before lurching out the door. They all relaxed, and Jack turned to Mark.   
“Why is that thing here?!” Mark grimaced. “It came out of the TV.” Jack stared at him then turned to the smoking remains of said TV.  
“Um, guys, isn’t that thing headed for the convention?” Bob said, looking at the door. Everyone just stared at each other for a moment before Mark summed up the situation pretty damn well.  
“Shit.” He darted for the door, the others right behind him. Slamming the door open, Mark took a couple steps over the threshold before he realized the grunt had vanished. And instead of being the hallway leading to the convention, his surroundings were something similar to those rooms from his Evil Within play through where the monster lady chased him.   
Shocked, he didn’t catch the grinding metal sound from across the room.   
“MOTHERFUCKER!” Mark roared in pain as a harpoon bolt pierced through his abdomen, getting stuck half way through (making him look a bit like a demented shish-kabob). He heard several sharp intakes of breath behind him as his friends processed the sight of him apparently fatally wounded.  
With a grimace- the metal was cold and pinched, and hurt A Lot- Mark pushed the bolt the rest of the way through and it clattered to the ground behind him with a metallic bang. He doubled over a bit in a (human) instinctual act to keep his guts from spilling all over the floor as the wound knit itself closed.  
“Mark, you ok?!” Wade asked, seemingly forgetting that this usually wouldn’t be a problem for him anymore, running forward into the room as well. Immediately a spike trap activated and Wade shrieked in pain as his feet got shredded. Bob and Jack did their best to pull him off it and back to the relative safety of the doorway.  
Mark saw red.  
These sons of bitches were toying with him! And had decided HIS friends were going to be puppets for just that. Wade had been hurt. This ‘game’ was designed to make all of them hurt and most likely die. The blood roared in his ears. HE hurt. He wanted to share that hurt. Rage seethed, beginning to block out his vision and thought until all that was left was him, those that were his, and the violence. He wanted it. He needed it so bad. The part of him that wasn’t human, had always been territorial, even when not with him. He just hadn’t realized HOW MUCH until now.  
Blood started to drip from his hands where he was cutting himself with his nails as he clenched his hands and trembled. ‘Don’t move,’ he prayed in his mind, unable to speak for fear of his body escaping his control and lashing out, tendrils WRITHING under his skin. ‘Don’t give me a target, dear god, PLEASE. I’m so angry…’   
He’d never been much for religion, but right now, if one of his friends moved and his strained instincts caught the movement- seeing it as prey- he couldn’t finish the thought so he tried to fight down the blanketing rage that threatened to sweep him away to doing something he would regret, and words didn’t mean anything when one of HIS was hurt, and he couldn’t-!  
The sound of stiff movement from farther in the room that made him turn and he felt himself grinning savagely to see a small horde of Evil Within zombies. Targets… The unknowingly dead already husks screeched at the sight of fresh meat in front of them. He wanted to see them all crushed.  
In one smooth movement, Mark snatched up the bolt that had speared him and threw it as hard as he could at the lead zombie. Which it turned out was pretty damn hard, as the bolt pinned the undead to the opposite wall of the room through the chest. The undead all screeched again at the agro-ing action and charged. ‘Kill them all,’ his instincts murmured, roared, SCREAMED. And he wanted to. Get back even a little bit at the fuckers who thought he would just ALLOW THIS, allow his friends and him to be pawns in some thrice blasted game that deserved to be Erased From Existence. The monster in him roared again.  
Something hot was pressing in Mark’s head and sparking along his limbs. And then everything became a blur as he tore through them, violently ripping off limbs and caving in skulls with his hands. He could’ve used his tendrils, a small part of him not caught up in his rampage murmured, but honestly it was so much more FUN to do it with nothing else but his fists. And that was scary. But it was true. And it was part of him.  
Blood splattered everywhere as the ranks of the infected rapidly diminished within minutes. A savage glee raced through him with his adrenaline along with the fierce protectiveness, sending Mark to higher levels of brutality. He would Not allow any of them to get to HIS friends. These were not prey, something you respected as life. These weren’t real enemies either (at least not the main ones). They were simply something placed in his way and when he was like this he would destroy them for it.  
Soon there were no moving threats anymore and Mark felt himself slowly slip out of his ‘feral’ state, breathing hard. There was blood all over him, gore decorated the walls and floor in odd patterns, and he winced at the realization that everyone had seen him lose it like that… Hell, he hadn’t known he could FEEL like that. He’d been drowning in the need in a way he’d never felt before- oh wait he had, when that wendigo had threatened Bob and Wade, hadn’t he felt an echo of that fierce protectiveness and rage? But now all his friends (HIS, his instincts whispered, as if it explained EVERYTHING. And it did. And it didn’t. His head hurt. Being mixed was NOT fun sometimes) had been threatened- this horrible game that was anything but- and he’d snapped.  
Cautiously, he looked over his shoulder (if they rejected him now, it would probably Break him), seeing Bob looking at him with grim acceptance, Wade mixing in a little nervousness and gratitude (and of course they did, he relaxed a bit, they’d already seen him be a monster to protect them- but the others…). Felix and Cry looked stunned- though it WAS hard to tell with Cry- but Jack… Jack was looking at him with knowing. Of seeing exactly all the things about yourself that you try to hide- and then letting it go, because they have exactly the same things they feel are wrong about them hidden under the wrappings of Everyday. And not a trace of pity.  
Mark was grateful for that.  
“Now I get why people are terrified of your dark side.” Felix said bluntly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah… Slender has had centuries, according to his lore, to settle his temper. And he doesn’t feel the protectiveness- that’s a human thing. Mark hasn’t had any time. And he does feel it. When you mix things, you can make something even deadlier than what you started with. Batrachotoxin for example (one of the most dangerous non-protein compounds in the world). TECHNICALLY it’s just hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen. The same way Mark is TECHNICALLY only two things that when mixed lead to painful violent DEATH. Supernatural power mixed with human drive and determination. Yeah. Not so fun. Kinda scary. Miracle he survived really. Slender and humans don’t exactly mix well. The powers of imagination and writers, huh?  
> Also, Jack slipped up too. Before the convention. He’d been near a fatal car crash and well… no one who had been there fully remembered what happened (the passerby anyway), and Jack wants to keep it that way. No one does things for free in the world. Some look for acknowledgement (even a smile can make you feel it was worth it), or payment but we all want something. Banshees are no different. Not even half ones. They warn of deaths approach and so feel instinctively entitled to part of the dying’s energy. When the part of them that’s them (‘soul’ if ya wanna get technical) leaves, there is energy released. And banshees can feed off that. Jack’s Gran has experienced the guilt. So she’s trying to help. But it’s gonna take more than just one person can offer to keep Jack going.  
> He didn’t kill anyone but he sure as hell hadn’t been able to save them either.


	10. ALMOST...

…  
Mark quietly turned away from where Bob and Wade were… explaining things and returned to picking through the gore for loot. Not for himself, he’d just proven that he’d be just fine here, but his friends on the other hand…  
A small skittering noise made him turn and he took in the sight of Jack cursing a zombie’s ribcage for snapping under his foot while he clambered over the piles towards Mark. He opened his mouth to say something but Jack cut him off.  
“Find anyt’ing good?” With a small squelching sound Mark pulled his hands out of the… mess and nodded to a cleared space not far away where he’d been piling up his finds.   
“A shotgun, two pistols, ammo for both, a barbed wire and saw blade bat, and a couple machetes. And of course…” here he picked up something behind a corpse just out of Jack’s vision. “Brain Juice,” he grinned, showing the Irishman the jar of bubbling green fluid.  
Jack made a disgusted face and Mark laughed. The others all turned at the sound and smiled a bit themselves. Mark’s laugh was contagious (and welcomed in the face of the gore, ‘digital’ or not).  
Looking over at the others, Jack frowned and gestured for Mark to follow him as he walked further from the group. “What’s up?” Mark asked him once Jack decided they were far enough away.   
The Irishman looked distinctly uncomfortable and shifted from side to side.  
“I… haven’t been completely honest wit’ ya Mark.”  
“Okaaaaaay…” Mark gestured for him to continue.  
“I-“  
Behind them Félix yelled something about wanting to know how the videogame zombies were real, cutting Jack off.   
“I believe the answer to your question Mr. Kjellberg is because on a certain level, people believe in them.” A German whisper echoed from above the group. To the fully human Youtubers the voice was accompanied by a horrible shriek, like metal nails on glass, causing them to cover their ears. For the two part-supernaturals, it was just loud.  
This time Mark wasn’t driven to his knees by static. It felt like being in a room with a particularly powerful subwoofer or a small jet engine, but it wasn’t completely overwhelming like it had been last time.   
Slender was standing on a rusty metal catwalk above their heads. Due to the overall gloom and grime, they hadn’t seen it at first.   
“What the hell do you want?!” Mark demanded. The being tilted his head mockingly before replying in a sardonic tone, “Why Mr. Fischbach, I should think that would be obvious. I want to expand my influence. At the moment, a fickle system of belief and stories are the only thing keeping the internet creatures alive. I am tired of relying on HUMANS’ goodwill. The fact that you are here will only mean I can get rid of you faster…”   
Mark growled but before he could move the figure had faded away. Without the constant mental effects the others were able to breathe easy.   
A loud cracking rumble filled the air, like a glacier crumbling. The entire room shuddered as if a giant were batting it around, sending everyone all over the place. Large fissures raced across the ground as the floor crumbled, forcing sections higher as others plummeted into blackness.  
The sudden seismic event didn’t allow for any calm or focus. Screams and yells filled the air. Mark found himself on the highest section as the other’s footing threatened to fall. He didn’t have time to think. As the fissure between them widened and his friends plummeted into the void, he stepped off the fragment into thin air and followed.  
…  
The fall through darkness was long. After forever it seemed, below an overhead view of a building appeared, as if he was no-cliping in garry’s mod. His eyes narrowed as the floor hurdled towards him.  
Automatically, Mark got his feet under himself and landed as light as a cat. Looking around, he found himself in a familiar dingy darkened hallway.   
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-oomf!” Jack landed in a pile on the floor next to him (which was odd, hadn’t he jumped after Jack?) and Mark looked up at where he’d fallen from.   
Nothing. Just a ceiling.   
Turning back to Jack, Mark had to chuckle at how he’d landed. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, ya smelly,” Jack grumbled, picking himself up off the floor. “Where th’ hell are we? An’ where is everyone else?”  
“I think… we’re in Five Nights at Freddy’s 3. And I have no idea where the others are.” Mark frowned, looking around again.  
“Whelp, lets pick a direction and start walking,” Jack said, glancing up and down the dark hallway. “And soon, cause I do not wanna meet Springtrap in person.”  
…  
“Oh fuck me up the ass with a duck,” Felix groaned, an unconscious Cry draped unceremoniously over his shoulder. He looked at the three branching paths in front of him and groaned again. Adjusting Cry, he sighed. “Ok… Oole doole doff, kink elana koff, kopp ilana….”  
…  
“You think you can walk now?” Bob asked as he finished wrapping Wade’s more seriously injured foot with his torn off shirt sleeve. Wade hopped off the table he’d been sitting on and took a couple steps.  
“Yeah, I think I’m good now. Let’s go find the others.”  
…  
Reclining in the night guard’s chair, Springtrap chittered and clacked to himself as he watched the newcomers through the cameras. The Tall Guy had asked him to enjoy himself with them. He knew them, which made it even better. They’d escaped and humiliated him once. Not this time…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DO NOT KNOW SWEDISH! I based that off what I hear Pewds saying.  
> I'M SORRY EVERYONE I HAVE OFFENDED!


	11. FINALE

…  
Springtrap peered out from behind the poster on the wall, doing his best to keep himself from creaking. The first two would be coming around the corner any moment now…  
Yep, there they were. Allowing his mouth to gape open, Springtrap began flooding the area with hallucinogenics. Once he was sure there was no way they’d be able to break out of his illusion, he darted off through the vents in search of the other prey.  
…  
Jack was still pouting after how he’d landed and Mark was quietly teasing him but the sound of something breaking snapped all humor out of the situation. “Fuck not again!” Mark shouted, glancing down at the ground.  
…  
Which is how he missed the iron support beam and huge chunks of concrete cascading from the ceiling behind him, burying Jack with a tremendous crash before he could do more than look up in shock.  
Mark stared at the slowly spreading pool of dark red forming under the rubble.  
He roared.  
…  
Which is how he missed the iron support beam and huge chunks of concrete cascading from the ceiling, burying him beneath them with a tremendous crash.  
Jack coughed, waving away the smoke and stared. “M-Mark?!”  
How the fuck had this happened?! He hadn’t been able to do anything…  
Biting his lip, Jack tried to hold back the tears threatening to spill over. Then he frowned. The edges of the rubble were…glitchy. Like someone had tried to “edit in” the catastrophy…  
Jack blinked and his left eye flared, shattering the illusion. The ceiling was still intact, and Mark was still there! Although, by the glazed look in his eye and his slumped posture, he was seeing something similar to what Jack had.  
Crossing the short distance between them, Jack frowned before saying “Sorry ‘bout this Mark,” and then he punched him in the face.  
…  
The sharp sting shattered the false world around him and he blinked in surprise at a very alive and not crushed Jack.  
“What-?” he started to ask.  
“We forgot that Springtrap can make illusions.” Jack said. Mark growled, clenching his fists. “Turning him into a pile of scrap metal is sounding better and better. “  
Jack grinned “Sounds good to me. But we should probably go find the others first. They’re probably dealing with something similar.” He started down the hall. “And I should probably start explaining myself a bit better…”  
Mark followed.  
…  
They did indeed find the others dealing with something similar.  
Only Cry, having been unconscious, had been unaffected. They walked in on him shaking Felix’s limp body and sobbing quietly. They quickly reassured him it would stay in the room and all regrouped just outside the office.  
Peering in through the grimy glass showed nothing so warily Mark crept around and looked in through the door. Still nothing.  
Standing up, he called out “I guess it’s ok.” The others slipped in and began looking around too.  
“Mark!” Jack called, glaring at a poster displaying the feared animatronics. “What’s up?” Mark asked, walking over to where he was standing.  
“Isn’t this poster an EYESORE?” Jack asked exaggeratedly. Mark looked at him for a moment thinking he’d lost his mind before Freddy’s eyes on the poster BLINKED. Realization hit him and he grinned at Jack.  
“It sure is…” carefully he positioned his tendrils out of sight of the eyes and looked back at Jack. The Irishman discreetly counted down from five. When he reached one, Mark drove his tendrils through the cinderblock wall- right into the broken down animatronic hiding behind the poster.  
Springtrap screeched in agony, drawing everyone’s attention from whatever they were doing (Wade was holding a Foxy mask in his hand and making it go through the motions of ‘yak yak yak’ over and over again). Mark did his best to pin the wriggling robot in place then drove a tendril through its head. It jerked a bit and slumped over, smoking.  
“Nice,” Bob admired.  
“Hey guys where did the door come from?” Cry wondered, pointing at said glowing door.  
The instant everyone noticed it, the glow intensified until they had to look away. When the light faded, the entire scenery had changed.  
…  
The group took in the sight of the Happy Wheels torture level in front of them and winced. Swords, spikefalls, cannons, and- was that a crazy baby with a watermelon helmet?!  
“Wait, where the fuck is Jack?” Bob wondered. Mark looked around and spotted him crouched at the other end of the platform poking at something.  
Walking over to him he asked “What are you doing Jack?” “I’ssa secret!” the Irishman said excitedly, pointing at a floating arrow and text reading ‘SECRET’ in blinking green.  
“What does it do?” Cry asked, having followed Mark over. Pretty soon everyone was crowding around.  
“I dunno,” Jack shrugged. Then he grinned deviously at Mark. “One way to find out!”  
Mark’s eyes widened. ‘Oh shit-‘  
He jumped.  
“Jack you IDIOT!” he shouted, jumping after the crazy Irishman, idly noting that the others were following.  
…  
(short-cut of epicness)  
The group stumbled out of the last room covered in glitter and laughing their asses off. Pulling a pink streamer out of his hair, Félix asked between giggles; “Where did that trampoline on the ceiling come from? I wanna get one now.”  
“I couldn’t see it,” Cry pouted, turning around and pulling off his mask. A waterfall of sea water and fish poured out, leaving the others wondering how they got in there in the first place. Putting it back into place, he turned back around and noticed their looks. “What?”  
“Nothing,” Mark deflected, munching on his hot dog. “You gonna eat them?” he pointed at the fish.  
Wade spat glitter on the floor and unwound the flashing blue and green feather boa from his neck.  
“Well THAT was interesting,” he said. “Well, this IS the internet,” Bob chuckled. “I did enjoy that giant pool full of bunnies though.”  
“Heh, that was fun wasn’t it?” Mark grinned at Jack, who was wearing a pirate captain’s hat on top of his regular one.  
“Jack?” the Irishman blinked. “Hmm? Yeah…” he pointed at the huge intimidating door in front of them. “Pretty sure it’s the final boss now.”  
Shoving the door open, Mark and the others walked inside…  
…  
The room was the same one they’d started in! Rubble lined the sides and the somehow fixed TV was laying center stage, static filling the screen. Other than that the room was empty.  
Jack looked around carefully then winced. Tapping Mark on the shoulder, he nodded at a spot just to the right of the TV. The air was distorted slightly there, the colors warped. Narrowing his eyes, Mark cautiously began padding over to the warp, the others aiming their weapons right at it.  
“D-don’t shoot me, please!” a young male voice begged as its owner ‘slipped out’ from behind the rubble. At the sight of a young, apparently terrified teenage boy, most of the group relaxed, lowering their weapons. Mark remembered his face and didn’t.  
“What the hell are you doing here?” he growled at the supernatural fanatic kid. The kid allowed the manufactured look of terror to slip of his face and he gave Mark a sharp grin. From the back of the room, Jack’s eyes widened as the image of dangerous bone light surrounding the ‘kid’ twisted and settled like a kaleidoscope… “Mark get away from him!” he shouted.  
Distracted by the shout, Mark turned back just in time to see the hollowed out husk of the kid flop to the ground, leaving behind the form of his enemy. A series of sickening pops and cracking noises filled the room as Slender unfolded himself and stretched to his full height, skeletal limbs disproportionately long for his body. There was a sense of weight to him, as if before he had merely been a projection, a place holder. The shadows on his not-face seemed to curl into a grin as he flexed his long fingers, skin bone white against the black of his suit.  
His appearance was simple and all the more terrible for it. A wave of static mimicking the TV’s earlier explosion knocked Mark back against a slab of rubble and pinned his friends against the back wall.  
“Hello Mr. Fischbach. Thank you for holding that for me… I wasn’t able to reclaim my property the first time we spoke but it seems I’ve broken past that barrier…” the humming voice vibrated through the room, loud enough to make the humans wince.  
Mark screamed as a branching cord of electricity snapped into place between him and Slender. It was as though he was re-experiencing that night when he’d first received the tendrils, magnified ten times. This was fire jumping from cell to cell, snapping and reducing to ash. A thousand needles slicing his flesh. The agonizing fire spread through his body, seeking and reducing, leaving behind seared flesh twinging at the cool brush of air becoming a torture of it’s own. Soon the pain blotted out every though and sensation, except the broken screams from his exhausted throat. If he ever got out of this alive, he knew all other pain would be meaningless to him. He wanted it to stop. It didn’t.  
And then it did. It took him a moment to figure out that the odd feeling was the absence of the pain. Slowly he persuaded his protesting body to move.  
“-and now that I’ve taken back what’s mine-“ a German accented voice was saying, the speaker with his back to Mark (thankfully he’d collapsed behind a bit of rubble out of anyone’s line of sight). “I will be taking something that ISN’T. Your world.”  
Mark’s eye’s fell on the body of the kid Slender had been wearing as he-it slowly turned to dust and he winced. A quick check told him the tendrils were gone (part of him wanted to curl up into a ball and ignore the world at this and another part screamed for vengeance. He was leaning toward vengeance at this point. Time for curling up later) and he breathed in shakily. He’d lost his best advantage. But he could work around this. What had Slender said about the Internet beings and believers? A grin spread across his face as he slowly made his way to the wreaked TV, still somehow playing static.  
…  
Jack lay against the far wall, completely ignoring the triumphant depravity in front of him, the sight of Mark screaming and writhing in pain playing over and over in his mind. From the small choked sobs all around him, he wasn’t the only one. But for him the sight had been especially horrible. He’d seen how the bone colored light had eaten away at the red light that had been Mark’s hidden tendrils until there had only been tattered scraps clinging to a human. A second after realizing this, he’d turned away. But he’d been unable to block out the screams…  
“Has anyone ever told you that no one likes listening to assholes?” Mark’s confident voice rang out, making all of them, including Slender, start with surprise. Looking up, Jack’s eyes widened at the (not so) impossible scene.  
A fire ball landed squarely between Slender’s shoulder blades, making him screech.  
“I thought I stripped your powers!” the thin man spat, turning to see what dared harm him in his hour of triumph.  
The guy-who-looked-like-Mark-but-was-on-FIRE shrugged and grinned. “Good thing I’m not Mark then.”  
Behind him was a veritable ARMY of –ipliers. Jack saw Google cracking his knuckles, Warfstasch flipping a knife between his fingers, and of course the expected legion of demonic looking versions of Mark grinning bloodthirstily, the numbers were immeasurable. There were multiple winged ipliers, some feathered, others demonic. Wade later swore he saw one wielding a bloody blade like those from Bloodborne. There were mechs, anthros, faux-hawks and floofs, any and every iplier created by an internet persona could be seen somewhere in the horde.  
Behind them, Jack could see Mark leaning against the TV, grinning tiredly as the sparking machine spat out a particularly spike-y looking Darkiplier who looked at his boss with concern before joining the rest gathered facing off against Slender.  
One iplier carrying an AK-47 and wearing a shirt saying ‘get rekt’ spat his cigarette on the floor and everything started. Guns were fired, blades were used, and chairs were thrown. Another iplier sprinting around like a hummingbird on crack was using electrical cords. The Thin Man teleported around the room, dodging the brunt of the attacks, but there were just so many. His own tendrils emerged, greasy black tar-like things, swiping at his foes. An attack got through the gauntlet of tendrils. Then another and another until after several heart stopping minutes Slender was teetering on the edge of the TV portal, being pulled and pushed at by thousands of hands.  
“I… will not… be beaten this way…” the thin gentleman rasped. The real Mark stepped in front of him and looked up at the figure who had terrified him for so long.  
“You already have,” Mark said quietly, reaching out and shoving. That last push sent the daemon through, his wail of outrage becoming ever fainter. The other ipliers started walking back through the portal, many wishing Mark luck. A particularly annoyed looking blue-eyed Darkiplier snarled out that if Mark didn’t take care of himself, he’d come back out and kick his ass. A rather unorthodox method of showing concern, but eh, it’s Dark, what more do you expect?  
Once all the ipliers were inside, the TV shorted out and shattered into a million pieces. Stumbling, Mark started climbing over the rubble created by the fight to his friends. Once he’d made sure they were all alright, he noticed something behind them that made him smile happily. Turning Jack saw that the door back to the rest of the convention was back.  
Glancing themselves over ruefully, the youtubers all agreed that some time in the shower and a change of clothes was desperately needed. Dried blood itches after all, and soot is a nightmare to get out of hair.  
…  
-A month later-  
Mark sighed, stretching his arms above his head to pop his spine. He winced at the feeling the internal burn sent him, letting him know that ‘YOU ARE STILL HURT YOU DUMBASS WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!’  
Getting up, he turned off his recording equipment and left the room, heading to the kitchen. Pulling open the fridge, Mark let the cool air and fluorescent lighting spill over him into the darkened apartment. Grabbing the water pitcher, his eyes momentarily fell upon the place where he used to pile the brown paper packages containing his ‘supplies’.  
He closed the door and poured himself a glass.  
…  
Mark’s body was physically changed to handle the power, unlike Jeremy, who simply contained power. So even when the power was gone, the physical enhancements remained. He’s still faster and stronger than a human SHOULD BE, but he’s no longer considered completely inhuman. So if when you see him he seems tentative when people hug him, or if you meet him and he is wolfing down a burger, well… don’t push too far for an answer. 

 

…  
*Deep in the Internet*  
Slender cursed and raged against the chains he’d been bound in. He’d been SO CLOSE!  
A small giggle caught his attention and he turned as best he could while chained like this.  
A red haired girl holding a small white cat grinned at him.  
“So I hear you’ve been hurting Markiplier…”  
The cat growled. “We won’t forgive you…”  
More internet personas appeared, all grinning in a way that made even him shiver.  
An amazing beating commenced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nocturn (blue dark) belongs to http://bunny-virus.tumblr.com/  
> Get Rekt and Hummingbird belong to http://honeystreak45.deviantart.com/
> 
> girl who started the beat-down on Slender is http://patchykins.deviantart.com/
> 
> any other resemblance to an -iplier is unintentional and I'm not trying to steal anything from anyone.  
> thank you for reading my brain vomit


	12. What if in the bathroom....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is an alternate storyline starting in chapter 2. Here Slender is not a dickwaffle, he is just tired of the bullshit.
> 
>  
> 
> You should probably go back and reread chapter two to refresh yourself on what happens.

(Shower confrontation never happened)  
Once he was dressed, Mark went over to his computer. He wanted to make sure the …incident yesterday hadn’t given it any problems. At first it seemed fine. But when he went to the recording of the previous day, there was no video. Just a flickering black screen with the words ‘we need to talk’ floating in the middle.  
Mark frowned. Great, more strangeness. The screen flickered again and he was suddenly being dragged through what felt like maple syrup, the room around him warping out. After several panicked minutes he stumbled out of the ‘warp’ …onto the side of an unfamiliar hill.  
‘WHAT THE HELL?!’ Mark thought, staring around at the dense forest that had suddenly replaced his house.   
“I’m glad you could make it,” a soft German whisper echoed behind him. A bony hand rested on his shoulder, causing Mark to freak out even more internally. The unmistakable form of Slenderman stood behind him.  
“This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, blah, blah, blah, welcome to the family…* sigh* I honestly just came for the cake,” Slender confided in Mark, seeming very bored as he steered the Youtuber up the hill to a large house.   
“So, I, you’re NOT going to kill me?!” Mark asked, understandably confused.  
Slender sighed again, opening the front door. “Nope. Now, you MAY want to dodge…”  
“What, why?” Slender didn’t answer, he just tripped Mark so he was on the floor and sidestepped a neon colored blur screaming “BIG BROTHEEEEEEER!” that passed just over Mark’s head.   
“Must you greet me like this EVERYtime Splendor?” Slender asked dryly. The neon blur, now revealed to be the aforementioned Splendorman, pouted at his big brother from where he’d landed in the front yard. “Of COURSE big bro! It’s fun!” he said, getting up and dusting off his colorful suit and straightening his top hat. Mark noticed that while Slender had a German accent, Splendor had a more American one. He was also extremely exuberant. And he actually had a face, albeit a very cartoon smiley face type one.  
“Ooh, is this our new brother?” Splendor asked, having noticed Mark. “Uh, I guess,” Mark answered, standing up. “AWESOME!” Splendor screamed, hugging him tightly and rushing into the house, Mark swinging from his arms like a very confused rag doll. “TRENDER! TRENDER, COME MEET OUR NEW BROTHER!”  
“Calm down, I’m not deaf,” a slender bro dressed in a fancy sweater and slacks responded, stepping out of what Mark assumed to be the kitchen. Splendor set Mark down at this point and pranced into the kitchen, singing to himself about cake.  
“Now then,” Trender murmured, looking Mark over. “You have a wonderful jawline and skin tone my dear, how are your thoughts on royal blue- oh my…” at this, he ported behind Mark and began examining his tendrils. “Red, you don’t see that much anymore in our line of work. Definitely would go well with a nice burgundy or wine…” muttering to himself, Trender grabbed a tape measure off a nearby table and ported off for parts of the house unknown.  
“Um…” Mark looked up at Slender in confusion. “He’s like that,” the Thin gentleman shrugged.  
“I can see that, but what exactly is going on?”  
Slender sighed again.   
“Long story short, I was drunk last night, you apparently accidentally stole some of my power, and now they want to throw a ‘Welcome to the Family’ party.”  
“Huh,” was all Mark managed to say before Splendor whirled out of the kitchen in a pink apron holding one of the biggest cakes he’d ever seen.   
“Aww, where did Trender go?” Splendor pouted, setting the cake down on the table. Slender sat, gesturing for Mark to do the same. “I’m sure he’ll be back before long,” Slender reassured him as Splendor began cutting and serving the cake.  
“Ok… but Offender isn’t here yet either!” Splendor frowned.  
“Who said I’m not?” a cocky New York accent came from behind them. Turning, Mark saw the final sibling. Walking over, Offender plunked himself down in a chair, not bothering to take off his trench coat or matching fedora.  
Then he noticed Mark.  
“Well hello, there,” he grinned.  
Trying to be smooth, Offender accidentally planted his elbow right on the fork on his plate, launching the slice of cake…. Right onto the pile of outfits Trender had whipped up for Mark as he ported into the room.   
“FOOD FIIIIIIGHT!” Splendor screamed, hurling chunks of cake everywhere, oblivious to Trender’s nonexistent eye twitching as Offender gulped nervously.  
“N-now bro, I-it was just an accident-!“ his attempt at an apology was cut off by Trender walking over, picking up a piece of cake, and grinding it into Offender’s face. Scraping the frosting out of his ‘eyes’ Offender gaped at the smug looking Trender before growling “Oh, it is SO on.”  
Cake happened. In large amounts.  
Slender sighed as the party deteriorated into sweet, sweet frosted chaos. He put his head in his hands and mumbled “Why do I live here…”  
Mark put a hand on his shoulder. “There, there…?” His attempts at comfort were short lived as he too was drawn into the fray.  
And that is how Mark became part of the Slender family.

**Author's Note:**

> Bye


End file.
